Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time, Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been performed Too terrible for the ear. The time has been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end. But now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is.